Whitby Town 2 Ashton United 0 (16th April 2022)
Of all the reasons for wanting to visit a club, my desire to visit Whitby Town is one of my strangest. Getting on for 20 years ago now, I was an avid player of the Football Manager computer game, when it was still fun (easy). After managing Reading to unfeasible glories, I spotted Whitby Town had been promoted to the conference in one new season, and decided to manage them for an additional challenge. Roll on a few few seasons, and Whitby Town would be celebrating the club’s first, of many, Premier League titles. True, the Champions League title eluded Whitby, never getting beyond the quarter finals, but I think Whitby could live with that level of failure.
I’ve fancied coming to a Whitby game for quite a long time as a result. OK, I knew the Turnbull Ground wouldn’t be the 15,000 seat stadium it got eventually converted to in the game, nor would I be hailed as a football managing god by the locals, but it was a trip I wanted to make…if only it wasn’t so far away.
At 270 miles, it would be a 5 hour drive on a good day. The Easter long weekend gave me the option of not doing everything in one day though, so I drove to York on the Friday, had a day there, then drove to Whitby on Saturday morning, giving me a few hours to look round the town. I’m glad I had the time, as Whitby is a really lovely old harbour town with some great views, picturesque streets, and a fair bit of history. Coming from a new town, where anything than predates The Beatles is regarded as a marvel, I love this kind of thing.
Also enjoying the Easter Whitby sunshine were a few hundred scooter riders, many with the traditional mod parkas, who had descended on the town, presumably in some kind of arranged meet. It was almost like Quadrophenia, only thankfully without the fighting. I did keep an eye out for the ‘ace face’, and to see if I could spot Phil Daniels and Leslie Ash disappear up a side alley, but it was just one of those unexpected things that adds a little extra to any trip out. Some of the scooters were amazing, but I’m glad I didn’t need to ride back to Berkshire on one.
Whitby Town’s ground was just a short walk away. The manager of the small hotel I stayed at in York turned out to be a Whitby fan, and said he’d normally recommend wearing three hats, such is the ‘bracing’ nature of the breeze, but while it certainly was a bit breezy – especially up at the abbey, where it made you suspect the place could have destroyed by wind damage if Henry VIII hadn’t got there first – but it was an almost perfect day for football and wandering about beforehand.
Whitby’s ground is fairly restricted by housing at both ends, so the main accommodation is at the sides. An imposing modern main stand sits high above one side. Sadly not quite high enough to offer a sea view, except between the houses, or of the sights of the town, it does offer an excellent view of the game, which is kind of the main intention. The local seagulls appear to like it to, and have pebbledashed the area behind the back row with so many droppings that in future years, the club will probably be able to rake in extra income using it as a guano farm. The seats though, were spotless.
Opposite is a covered terrace, slightly oddly angled, but with enough steps to offer a good view if you don’t mind to odd pillar, or the occasional floodlight support, such is the restriction on space. Both ends are also restricted by buildings behind, with high netting intended to step wayward shots taking out washing on the line in back gardens. On one occasion it failed its task due to a very wayward shot, only for the ball to bounce back perfectly off the angle of a roof to come straight back into the ground.
The weekend had gone so well, especially with the weather, that I felt tempted to buy a 50/50 ticket as it might have been my lucky day. No, I didn’t win, but I did better than the mate I normally travel to these longer distance games with. He did a solo trip up a month earlier, and was rewarded with a 0-0 draw. I saw two goals in the first eight minutes.
The first was from the penalty spot. Whitby had started looking fresh and determined from the off, knocking the ball about confidently with purpose. Ashton looked like they’d just finished a large cooked breakfast and weren’t settled at all. Whitby had already pinged one shot over the bar before a run into the box saw a clumsy challenge put in, resulting in a clear penalty, which was dispatched with ease.
Five minutes later it was two. With Whitby looking dangerous with every attack, an attempted shot was well blocked. It sat up nicely though for a second go, and nobody was able to stop this effort sailing into the net. Another well struck shot soon after would have made it three, if only the aim had been a little better.
After this terrible start, Ashton United did manage to compose themselves and get into the game, but they never looked like they really believed they’d get it back to 2-2. Their best chances looked to be from a set pieces, but it was only really in rare attacks from open play that they made the home keeper work.
Ashton’s keeper, one of those in the “swear and blame everybody” school of defence management, had a little more to complain about, often being put under pressure by his defence, even if Whitby weren’t getting shots away at will like in the earlier stages. It’s hard to say why Whitby didn’t score more. They certainly deserved to. They moved the ball around really well, got into lot of dangerous positions, but didn’t create the amount of clear chances the approach play deserved.
Into the second half, and it was the same story, with more good football by the home side just not quite coming off. Ashton United did improve a bit too, it has to be said, but every half chance missed seemed to be reacted to like it was another nail in the coffin.
Whitby, in contrast, could just carry on clipping the ball about neatly, comfortably ahead, calm in the spring sunshine. They did have the ball in the net one more time, with the ball deftly flicked overhead, and over the keeper into the net, but the flag was up already so nobody was thinking it would count.
The game had that relaxed end of season feel, even with the play-offs still mathematically possible, but it’s been a good season for Whitby, and the atmosphere was of a satisfied job well done, rather than any disappointment that things could have been better. If they can match the good football played this afternoon with being a little more clinical in the final third, then maybe next season could be very promising. Maybe they won’t need me as manager after all. Just as well. It’d be a heck of a commute.
Stadiums and Cities 